


Touch

by TuppingLiberty



Series: As the Universe Wills It - Force Husbands [16]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Grumpy Old Men, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Massage, Seattle AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 11:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12456448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: I know what you're thinking. Kinktober? Rated T? What?This fic really just became about the intimate ways couples who have been together for a long time interact with each other, whether that's nonverbal communication, or touch.Kinktober Day 17: Massage





	Touch

**2017**

Baze groaned as he straightened up from the pot he’d just put the finishing flare on. He’d been at this for hours now; he’d gotten behind on his orders because both he and Chirrut had been taken out by a cold last week, and these pots were due at Poe’s place in seven days. Just exactly enough time to bisque and glaze everything - if he worked his ass off. 

Poe Dameron probably wouldn’t have given a lick, to be honest, if the shipment had been late. But Baze’s stubborn pride in his business kept him from giving up. At least, that’s what Chir called it, stubborn pride. Baze called it integrity. 

Right now integrity was kicking his ass, though. He groaned again as he stored the pot in the greenware cupboard and cleaned up for the night. It was full on dark outside; he’d joined Chirrut for a quick dinner several hours earlier and come right back out to the studio. He stripped off his work flannel - he thought he could get one more day of grime on it - and put on his raincoat to head inside. 

He immediately put on tea. The studio was heated but having his hands in cold water all day had made the chill settle into his skin. All he wanted to do was wrap his hands around a warm mug and collapse into the couch. Maybe snuggle up with Chirrut. Maybe down a half bottle of ibuprofen to kill the intense pain in his back. 

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Baze jumped at the sudden voice and looked up to find Chirrut leaning against the doorjamb. He grunted, and Chirrut tsked, and they fell into one of their wordless conversations that Baze was pretty sure could only happen when one had known someone as long as Baze had known Chirrut. 

The gist of the conversation was: 

_ “I need to get it done.”  _

_ “You’re just getting over being sick.” _

_ “My customers depend on me.” _

_ “Look at you! You’ve worn yourself to the bone.”  _

Baze was pretty sure Chirrut was winning this particular conversation, but he definitely knew when Chirrut’s warm, heavenly hands slid over the tense knots in his back. A moan slipped out before Baze could hold it back. 

_ “Bái chī,”  _ Chirrut muttered, kissing Baze’s back. “We’re putting you straight to bed.” 

Baze didn’t even want to protest anymore. “Chirrut-” 

Chirrut paused from pulling Baze back to the bedroom. “Yes?”

“Will you- will you give me a massage?” Baze knew he sounded sheepish, knew Chirrut knew it from the sly smile on his face. “Without reading me the riot act?”

Chirrut’s smile softened. “I suppose. If you promise me you’ll take tomorrow off.”

“I need to-” 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. We’re going to the market.” Chirrut said it with finality and a raised eyebrow. 

Going to the market with Chirrut would always be Baze’s weak point. “Yeah. I can take tomorrow off.” 

It was all worth it for the warm smile Chirrut gave him. 

In the bedroom, Chirrut sent an assessing glance his direction. “Probably better to strip now, and get into pajamas later. Easier access,” he said with a grin as he wiggled his fingers. 

Baze laughed a little and began to strip out of his clothes and toss them to the hamper. He watched Chirrut rummage around until he found lotion, smoothing some over his own skin first and lifting his hands up to smell it, humming softly. 

How was it that every little motion, every little action, every little sound that was just  _ so _ exquisitely Chirrut could just - just undo him like this? They’d been together for what, sixteen years at this point? 

He smoothed his hands over Chirrut’s scalp - Chirrut grumbled at the cold - and leaned over to kiss Chirrut’s forehead before he laid out on the bed on his stomach. 

“Comfy?” Chirrut asked and Baze mumbled an assent as he closed his eyes. 

He felt Chirrut’s weight shift on the bed, and then he was straddling Baze’s hips. He began with long, broad strokes of lotion up Baze’s back, light and soothing, lulling Baze into a relaxed state. 

He kept up the humming, too, mixed with little sympathetic noises as he assessed the knots in Baze’s back, or murmurings of love and praise when Baze stiffened at sudden pain, then relaxed back again. 

Baze had always admired Chirrut’s clever fingers, but never more so than when Chirrut decided to use them on his body. Every stroke had a purpose, but every touch was filled with love and care, like Chirrut was some kind of healing witch. At one point, Chirrut just laid over his back, pressing a kiss to the scarification tattoo on his neck, and weighing him down, keeping him warm. 

Chirrut worked over his body until Baze felt like a relaxed pile of goo just seeping into the mattress. It felt so fucking good, Baze wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t turned on, except for the fact that he was so, so tired. He was threatening to slip into sleep when Chirrut moved off of him, tossing the blanket over him and clamoring off the bed. When he returned, he was helping Baze into his pajamas, and all of Baze’s limbs felt heavy and awkward. 

“Two last directions from Dr. Îmwe,” Chirrut murmured, helping Baze up into a sitting position. He handed him a glass of water. “Drink that.” 

“I’m going to have to get up and piss in the middle of the night,” Baze grumbled, though he took a sip. 

“Oh well. You need to flush your system or your back will feel even worse tomorrow.” Chirrut sat and watched as Baze dutifully drank the entire glass of water. “Second direction, get some fucking sleep, Baze.” 

It was a little ridiculous how easily Chirrut pushed Baze over, onto his back. He threw the blanket back over Baze and went around to the other side of the bed to snuggle in beside him. 

Baze’s heavy eyelids finally gave up the ghost, but he found Chirrut’s hand beneath the sheets and squeezed their fingers together as he drifted off. 

They had done all manner of things in this relationship, intimate things, but Baze’s last thought before sleep was that the act of service Chirrut had done for him tonight was one of the most intimates nights they’d ever had. 


End file.
